Kelly Might Be Trapped in the Closet, But I’m Not….

For years my mother voiced the saying 'never waste time crying over spilled milk'. But the day I knocked over an entire glass and was completely unaware that I did--- I was truly unprepared for just how much 'milk' I would have to clean up.

A few years back during one of the many holiday breaks that most college students eagerly look forward to, I was putting the final touches on my suitcase. As I gathered some things for my long weekend trip to Atlanta, Georgia, I heard my cell phone ringing. It was my mother. She was down stairs waiting for me in front of my apartment building. I was taken back a little, surprised that she did not care to come up to the apartment this time and say hello, as usual, to my friends. I had decided weeks prior to this trip, that if I was going out of town, there was no real reason to bring my car home, so I did the smart thing and politely asked my mother to give me a lift to the city where I would then meet my cousin for our road trip.
During the hour long car ride, the conversation was very stiff . My mother made that very noticeable, but I simply brushed it off as her being 'menopausal'. As if in attempt to hear a needle drop on carpet---the entire drive was filled with silence. Like some, I tend to be quite the talker when I am anxious or excited, so, I did most of the talking...

I began--- "Soooo Mom how's work?"
She then slid out the words in a pale manner, "Work is work."

I enjoy a challenge, so...
I attempted to try her again—

"Mom, I love the new apartment. Seems as though it has finally become my home away from home."

With her eyes only on the dotted line in the road as if she were trying to somehow connect them,
commented dryly---
"Well I'm glad."

At this point, I stared out the window thinking a turtle has more personality. I gave up and smiled. I was preparing to go on a great trip, why on earth would I let my mother attempt in ruining it.

Now, I have to admit, I knew as a kid just-how-deep my admiration was for women; but at such a tender age I simply brushed it off as my yearn for the attention and affection, that all kids look for.   It wasn't until the day I returned from Atlanta, that I reaffirmed my years of curiosity---I was indeed a lesbian.

I had one extra day at home before I would have to head back to campus, so I wanted to make sure that I enjoyed my last little bit of 'freedom' from my schoolwork. I decided to get up that particular morning and spend the day with my younger sister. We decided to do a little pre-winter shopping, something I hate to do, but--- would not deny her some sisterly bonding time.
I walked into my mother's room to see if perhaps she might need something while we were out and about.

"No. I don't need anything," she replied.

With such blandness as she said this, I could not take it anymore. I asked my mother was everything okay? Was work going okay? Was there anything she wanted to talk about? It wasn't until she began to play the same question game with me, that she jabbed in the next question...

 "Is there anything you want to talk about?"


At that moment my heart and everything around it came to a standstill. I stood nervous, though not making it known. My intuition told me she knew my secret. But I played along as if I was unsure what she might be referring to. Back in the ring, fists up, I chuckled and said,

"No. It's just that you have been so quiet and blunt with me ever since you picked me up from campus. It is so unlike you, especially when I haven't been home in a few months."

Then---she gave me the look. You know the look. Its the one your parents gave you growing up. The look that says they know, that you know, that THEY KNOW. I knew then--- that my secret was out.

My mother explained to me that she was fine and asked me yet again, was there anything I wanted to tell her.
This time I did not laugh. I did not chuckle. I did not smirk. I simply pushed out the word 'No' from between my lips. In that moment I looked at her realizing I had just been defeated. I backed into my corner as she then asked the question, I feared.

With a face so stern she yelled,

 "So is it true????". 
I answered back.
 "Is what true Mom?"

"So are you???? …..Are you.... GAY???!" She yelled.

My heart beat so loud, I felt I was going deaf, because the beat was all that I could hear.

My mother stared into my eyes as if she wanted to ram me like a bull, so unlike the Aries that she is. She looked at me not caring that I was her child, and all I could do---was stammer no and yes back and forth in between my tongue and lips. She carefully explained to me that my sister had informed her of my being a "lesbian". She sat there for about 10 minutes shaking her head. I kept thinking, where is divine intervention when you need it.  She began to explain that it made sense and that she should have known, now that she was thinking back to some things.

She began to severely interrogate me with questions. I wanted to yell 'objection! Badgering the witness!' as she continued to make me feel as though I was behind the stand asking How did I know, When did I come to that conclusion, Did someone turn me out, you know –the usual questions any parent would ask their supposedly LGBT child. After managing to answer at least one of her questions, the next question took me back. I immediately went into hardcore defense mode.

"I hope you don't plan to have kids," she said as she rolled her eyes and looked away.
I was filled with rage. This was a feeling I didn't believe that I would have for my mother. The woman I looked up to. The woman who believed in me. The woman who brought me into this wonderful yet sad world.


All that I could question was 'how could she say that to ME'?
With anger I replied, "I am your daughter."
 I began testifying, as to why I could have children one day. I explained that being a lesbian does not change my heart and who I am. And that no child is better off in a heterosexual home than in the home of her lesbian daughter. After my testimony the only thing she could do was fall silent.

She sent me away feeling as if my world was falling apart. It was like I couldn't breathe. I was grasping for air though in my mind I knew it wasn't truly what I was trying to get a hold of...

I decided to leave early the next day and head back to my campus. As I was packing my things the next morning she came into the guest room to tell me we needed to talk.

"About what.," was all I could muster. More of a statement rather than a question.

Inside I thought to myself. Give this a chance. Maybe a talk will help us BOTH to understand the dynamics of what has just taken place.

We went for a drive to try and get my cell phone fixed (which decided to break down right in the midst of all this craziness). By the end of our outing, I realized she did not  have the courage to truly talk about this, and so she simply told me,

"I love you. And I mean that. No matter what."

My mother had never been so sincere to me. It was very surreal to me.

I found that my assumptions earlier were later incorrect and that my mother did muster the courage to discuss my new life style once we returned home. Sure I should have been happy. But what I did not expect, was for the questions to reach as far as they did. This time, the questions were more on the lines of Who I was dating, what's her name, where does she live, what is she like, what does she do, what's her credit score . Irony at its best, I went into as little detail as possible. My mother did NOT need to know what I do with women.
I shake my head and smirk as I sit here reflecting back to this very day. Although my mother still has her moments....…
My coming out —is something I will never forget….

......Three months after my coming out, my mother asked me was I still bi-sexual.  I responded with a face of painted confusion, "Mom I only like and date women. I'm not bi-sexual."

She began to fuss and judge all over again.

I opened a door to a world she knew nothing about, and I couldn't expect her to walk through that door with me just yet. I have patience. I have understanding. And no matter what, I have a love for my mother, that any straight or lesbian daughter would have.  
Thats just the way it is.